The World We Live In
The sun was hanging dangerously low in the sky, making Rick tense. Night was approaching and they needed to find shelter. But Kit was slowing them down, having to rest every five minutes, but Abraham no longer seen the need to carry him, saying in loud tones he wasn't going to 'coddle Curlylocks' for a minute longer. Rick suspected Abraham had a point; that Kit's debilitation lay more in the mental than the physical, the trauma of Terminus finally catching up to him.
Rick watched as Imogen fussed over Kit, buttoning up his heavy plaid shirt up to his chin, her face darkening at the darkness threatening to take Kit from her. She didn't seem to realise she was as equally in danger of being dragged under. Imogen was failing to fight her way to the other side of it, and Kit was drowning, ignoring her outstretched hand, allowing the waters to close over his head.
"You're gonna have to walk, buddy," Abraham reiterated, cuffing Kit lightly across the shoulder, "I ain't your horse and carriage, buddy."
"He will," Imogen said tersely, throwing Abraham an annoyed look, "so back off."
"Make me," Abraham said dangerously, squaring up to her.
"I'd like to see her try," Daryl said dryly, stepping inbetween them, "your biceps are bigger than her head, man."
Abraham snorted at this, good humour temporarily restored, before turning away from them. Imogen turned away from Daryl in turn, black brows drawing together in derision. Rick carefully handed Judith over to Carl, before clasping his son's shoulder for a brief heartbeat, his hand shaking slightly, and then he was striding over to Imogen and the others, his face hard.
"It's time to go," he called out, signalling them forth, "put distance between us and them." As they started to file out of the clearing, Rick stood there for a moment, watching the smoke rise between the trees, turning the sky dark.
"It's not over," Imogen said quietly, making him glance at her.
"No, it's not," Rick said abruptly, hesitating before taking her hand and leading her ahead of the others. His plans to make sure Terminus wouldn't rise out of the ashes again might have been opposed, but he knew deep down in his bones the war wasn't over yet.
Together, they walked the train-tracks hand in hand, but it wasn't romantic regard, only the instinct for survival, Imogen clinging to the cliff-face of her existence, holding onto all she had left. Rick was the only reason she hadn't fallen yet, and if she let go -
"Wait," she said suddenly to Rick, making him stop, all the blood draining from her face at the sign in front of them. Sanctuary for all, community for all. Those who arrive, survive. She let go of Rick's hand for one fatal moment, just standing there, staring at the sign, and then she was suddenly screaming, ripping the cardboard apart, shredding it to pieces, her face ravaged by hate, vitriol running through her veins.
"Imogen," Rick pleaded, the others having slowed to a stop further up ahead, staring at Imogen like she was insane. "Imogen!" He grabbed her from behind, pinning her arms to her sides, forcing her to fall silent and still, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Look at me," he ordered, turning her round, roughly jerking her chin up with his hand, "fuckin' look at me!"
She stared at him, seeing without seeing, her grey eyes becoming dangerously blank. Rick stared at her in return, seeing she was losing the fight; that he was losing her. Imogen had been locked up in the darkness too long, everything she'd come to care about dragged from her arms, the screams haunting her every hour, marking the minutes to her own end.
Rick just stood there, feeling like he was on the edge of falling, and then he suddenly snapped, slapping Imogen across the face, the sound cracking through the air like whiplash -
"What the hell are you doing!?" Kit yelled, lunging forwards, Daryl dragging him back. "Have you lost your mind!?"
"How about y'all your cheers down, people," Abraham ordered, stepping forwards, cracking his knuckles threateningly. "Don't want the dead ones descendin' on us, do we now?"
Kit fell silent, shrugging off Daryl's restraining hand, his fists clenching weakly by his sides. Imogen just stared at Rick again, his handprint cut crimson against the backdrop of her bloodless face, and without another word, she walked away from him. Immediately, Michonne and Maggie reached for her, drawing her into their own group. Maggie slid her arm around Imogen's waist; Michonne smoothing back her tangled black hair, before saying something in low tones that made Imogen look away.
As they started moving again, Kit hung back, Daryl doing the same, sensing another storm was about to go down. When Rick drew level with them, Kit turned to him, grey eyes, Imogen's eyes, alight with anger. "Keep your hands to yourself from now on," he hissed, Daryl grabbing his arm again, "or I won't trouble myself to do the same."
Rick just looked at him, not seeing the point in pointing out Kit could hardly punch his way out of a paper bag right now, never mind taking him on. "Consider it noted," he then said coolly, and with that, they walked on, following the train-tracks.
Darkness had swiftly fallen, the moon obscured by cloud, the trees crowding around their makeshift camp, Rick feeling the full weight of their silent stare, before shaking his head scornfully at his fanciful thoughts. For a moment, his gaze drifted to Imogen who was sitting in front of the fire, wedged between Maggie and Glenn. Kit sat across from her, with Tyreese on his left and Bob on his right, both urging him to eat some more squirrel as to build his strength back up.
Almost everybody had gone out of their way to welcome the pair into the fold, albeit for different reasons, Abraham always on the look-out for more recruits for his mission, the others not so mercenary minded. But whilst Kit had vaguely acknowledged their efforts, Imogen had still more or less ignored them, beginning to retreat into herself. And when she wasn't, she was at war, stirring up trouble; trouble Rick didn't need. She kept lashing out, Rick having to restrain her, putting him under even more strain.
"You... you did the right thing," Carol said quietly from behind him, making Rick turn around. "I seen the look on her face – she was on the edge, Rick. If she goes over that edge, there's no coming back from it."
Rick studied Carol, knowing he himself had never really come back from his own edge. He was bitterly regretting lifting his hand to Imogen, even if he had twisted reason to, the blank expression in her eyes still haunting him even now. It had been like looking into a void, reflecting his own emptiness.
Carol looked calmly back at him, remembering Lizzie, the look in her eyes, echoing Imogen's expression. It had been too late to pull Lizzie back from the ledge, but Imogen might still be saved, if only somebody could reach her in time.
"I owe you everything," Rick said suddenly, startling Carol.
"You owe Tyreese, he was at the prison" -
- "But you went back," Rick said, holding her gaze, "you went back and saved my flesh and blood, even after what I did to you" -
- "You said I'd survive, and I did" -
- "Will you have us?" Rick asked abruptly, silencing her. He still didn't hold with what Carol did back at the prison, but she had risked her neck to save him and his, when she could have just walked away. She had taken care of Judith, had brought her back to him. She had done all this after he had sent her away to die. He had given her a head-start, but that's all it had been. Death had been waiting in the wings for her, like it waited for all of them, and they both knew this, despite all his high-minded talk of Carol having the capacity to survive. She probably would have, but there was always that but.
Carol's lower lip trembled, but her nod was steady and sure, making Rick nod in turn, clasping her shoulder briefly. He made his way over to the others, returning Tara's soldier salute, having made his own peace with her earlier. They were a unit now, and they could only survive together. His gaze fell upon Imogen again, making her glance up at him, the firelight throwing into relief the hidden red highlights of her hair, her eyes burning blue-black in the darkness, challenging him.
"Time to turn in for the night, folks," Rick said, tearing his gaze away from Imogen's, glancing round them all instead, "Ty, Tara, Carol and Daryl are takin' first watch, then we'll change over."
As everybody found free spots on the ground, huddling together for warmth, Rick took Judith from Carl, who went over to the base of a tree, taking off his sheriff hat before curling up like a cat amongst the dry leaves. Michonne set down her empty sword sheath, before claiming a spot near Carl, smoothing down his messy dark hair with a maternal hand, before turning her back on him.
Turning on the spot, Rick searched for a spot away from the others also pairing up, Glenn and Maggie, Bob and Sasha, and Abraham and Rosita, before lying down on the ground, Judith tucked under his arm, grumbling in protest. "I don't like it either," Rick said to her, "but we just have to lump it."
"Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness, Rick Grimes," Imogen said, throwing herself down on the ground beside him.
"Lay down and shut up," Rick said abruptly, the mere mention of madness enough to set off his tripwires. "Time for talkin' to yourself and otherwise is over."
"Shut up yourself," Imogen snapped, but she lay down all the same so she was facing him, her hair falling across her eyes, Imogen pushing it back with an impatient hand. For a long moment, they just stared at one another, Judith gibbering to herself, the sound making Imogen smile despite everything.
"I'm sorry," Rick said quietly, making her glance up from Judith at him again, "for... for hittin' you like that. But you scared me, Imo."
Imogen closed her eyes, her smile smashing into pieces, what frightened him frightening her in turn. For a moment, it had felt like she'd left her body; that she didn't exist anymore. Then the pain had exploded like a bomb, returning her to reality, Imogen still feeling the impact of Rick's hand hitting her face even now.
Rick exhaled sharply, hesitating before edging closer, Imogen opening her eyes, making him freeze. But then she shifted closer to him in return, her hand somehow finding his, Rick's body curving round her and Judith, enclosing, encompassing. "It's gonna be OK," he whispered, his fingers knotting through hers, "I promise."
Rick lay there, staring up at the sky, the stars breaking through the blackness, catching glimpses of their ghosts, their light burning on even after it had been long extinguished. They were all echoes, Rick Grimes long dead, but still living on. He didn't recognize himself anymore, nor the crimes his hands had committed, sins executed in the name of survival.
Imogen's head lay on his shoulder, her dark hair smelling of earth and autumn, Judith lying between them, snoring like a little piglet. The darkness had nearly destroyed their divides, Imogen almost in his arms, finding the shelter she so desperately sought. But doing so would cross some unspoken line, and so she kept her distance, despite being so close.
"This is it, isn't it?" Imogen whispered, her words barely existing. "This is life for the rest of our lives."
"We don't know that," Rick lied, reaching for her hand again, "but we have each other and that's all that counts."
"But it's not enough," Imogen said, snatching her hand back, "there has to be something more, and I don't think there is."
- "We have a future" -
- "No, we don't" -
- "We do," Rick hissed, his gaze crashing into hers, blue battling grey, "even as we have to fight for it."
"But I - I – I can't fight anymore," Imogen said, the tears suddenly springing to her eyes, "not when there's nothing to fight for."
"We have everythin' to fight for," Rick snapped, "and so we fight, all of us, includin' you."
But she turned away from him, wrapping her arms around her head, trying to subdue her sobs so the sound wouldn't carry. Rick exhaled sharply, before shifting Judith to his other arm, pulling Imogen to him with his other, holding her to him, Imogen burying her face in the crook of his neck, his beard rough against his skin.
As she did, Rick tensed up, trying to hide his unease by patting her shoulder awkwardly. He hadn't been this close to a woman for a long time, resurrecting memories of Lori he didn't want to remember. "It's gonna be OK," he reiterated through gritted teeth, "you're safe now, I swear."
"I'm sorry," Imogen whispered, her words feeling like wind against his flesh, "I'll – I'll get a grip, I promise. I – I just" - She fell silent, pressing her face against his neck again, her hand finding the front of his suede jacket, clinging to its shearling collar.
"I was where you are," Rick said slowly, "but I had to come back. People were dependin' on me – Carl, Judith – I had a newborn around my neck, and I had to come back for her, for them."
Imogen raised her head, her tearful gaze searching his face. "Your wife?" she asked quietly, already knowing the answer before he said it.
Rick nodded, swallowing hard. "When Lori died... I was gone," he said, his voice cracking. "The others stepped up, took care of my own, but again, I had to come back. So I did. And so do you. Kit needs you. He has us, but it's not the same. You're his kith and kin - the rest of us are just strangers. So you have to come back, even if I have to drag you kickin' and screamin'."
To his surprise, Imogen smiled brokenly at this, Rick studying her face for a moment, caught by that crooked smile. "Thank you," she said hesitantly, "for – for this." Before he could react, she suddenly pressed her lips to the underside of his jaw, before turning her back on him, her shoulders hunching slightly, paralyzed, Rick just lay there staring at the stars above, his flesh burning like it was on fire.
This is the world that we live in
I can't take blame for two
This is the world that we live in
And maybe we'll make it through…